


Set me down

by dysintegration (robokittens)



Category: DCU, Infinity Inc
Genre: F/M, Incest, Masturbation, Multi, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/dysintegration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not sure which is worse: the nights he can hear them through the wall, or the nights he <i>can't</i>. This one of the latter but he's got the pillow pulled over his head anyway, pressing it down hard around his ears, trying somehow to block out his sister's long, lithe body and the hands tracing down her sides, reaching up to cup her breasts, and he can't help but wonder if this is what they're doing, in their heads, and he can't help but wonder if Hank is <i>projecting</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set me down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngGriffen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngGriffen/gifts).



He's not sure which is worse: the nights he can hear them through the wall, or the nights he _can't_. This is one of the latter but he's got the pillow pulled over his head anyway, pressing it down hard around his ears, trying somehow to block out his sister's long, lithe body and the hands tracing down her sides, reaching up to cup her breasts, and he can't help but wonder if this is what they're doing, in their heads, and he can't help but wonder if Hank is _projecting_.

Or maybe that would be better. Maybe that way it's not his fault; maybe everyone in Hank's radius is getting these images, and oh God that makes him twitch with anger, that's not a better plan, _no one_ should see Jen like this. No one but — no, he has to stop that, has to stop wanting her and oh, God.

He shifts, puts the pillow back under his head, lies on his side to stare at the wall. He could change, he could go through it, he could _see_ — no. He moves again, onto his back, and stares at the ceiling. There's almost no light in the room, a little creeping in around the edges of the blinds, and the red glow of his alarm clock (11:24; most people their age aren't even thinking about bed yet and here he is) and suddenly he thinks he hears something, a exhale, and he _knows_ it's Jen; he hears it again, knows that Hank is pulling these noises out of her.

And he's instantly, achingly hard.

He hasn't been back to Milwaukee in almost three weeks and he hates it there and all the memories and all the people he can't find, but Father McKay has always been good to him, has always believed him when he said he was sorry and he'll be sorry; he's sorry already; he'll fly back tomorrow — He has a hand wrapped around himself and he shudders just from that. He hasn't done this in so long, he shouldn't be doing it now, he —

He hears Jen's voice again. A sigh, maybe a name. "A name," like it's so vague, like it could be him, like it could be anyone who isn't _Hank_ and oh he wants to punch him straight in the face and just that thought gets him somehow even harder, and he squeezes himself a little tighter, strokes a little faster, listens to Hank's voice through the wall murmuring words he can't make out.

His eyes are squeezed so tight it almost hurts, and he can't black out the vision; it's not in his eyes, it's in his _brain_ , and he's sure it's Hank's fault; it has to be, it can't be him — the long line of Hank's back as he pushes into Jen, her hands squeezing his shoulders, her green skin faded dark in the black of the room. Her head thrown back, her eyes closed — and then open, wide open and looking _at_ him and he's so startled his hand stops moving, just for a moment.

Her eyes fall closed again but she knows, she knows he's — and he's jerking even harder, and he feels a hand wrap around his, strong and definitely male and this time he's not even startled, just arches up into it a little.

Feels a hand against his chest, pressing him down, and he knows it's Jen's because he can feel her power pulse throbbing, burning against his heart, and he shudders and comes.

He stares at the ceiling a moment longer, the images receding from his brain as his eyes struggle open and his breathing slows, and it's with a guilty fast-paced fumble that he pulls his hand out of his underwear; it hovers in the air for a while, like he's not sure what to do with it. He pushes himself upward with the other and sits up, legs folded over the edge of the bed, and stands up.

A good clean-up job (not that he'll really be clean, not that a washcloth can really wipe away this stain) takes more than just tissues, and the bathroom's not far from the door to his bedroom, and really, he figures they can't hear him, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> actual author's note when this was posted to my lj in'05: "And for anyone who's reading this without knowing who these people are: I am not a giant sicko perv. I mean, I am, but Todd's hots for his sister are canonical."


End file.
